The Embrace of Death
by ViLovesCaitlyn
Summary: A revolution has begun in Noxus. At first it was ever so gradual and almost unnoticeable, but day by day, minute by minute, it gets worse. There has to be someone to quell such twisted thoughts. Such radical dreams. Someone to deliver to the people cold steel and the metallic smell of blood. Someone to embrace the people of Noxus with harsh, brutal death. M for gore and violence.


**N/A: **

**First sentence is a qoute from the book **_**The Scarlet Pimpernel **_**by Baroness Orczy. And I thought that sentence was just so freaking amazing, that it deserved to be in this. Not that being in my story is something amazing or anything, but it still deserves mention. And it's just so DAMN GENIUS and deep, one of those few (and by few I mean most) pieces of literature that brings tears to my eyes from it's sheer beauty. It stomps on all the other sentences in this story btw.**

A surging, seething, mumuring crowd of beings that are human only in name, for to the eye and ear they seem naught but savage creatures, animated by the vile passions and by the lust of vengence and hate. The hate for their 'Oh-So-Strong' city-state. The most ruthless, strongest pinnacle of power in all of Valoran. _My _city-state. _My_ one purpose in life. Noxus.

The people gathered in groups, yelling, screaming, and chanting curses about Swain and what the state has become. Once home for the strong. Once home only for the worthy. Worshipping the tyrants that they called their 'revolutionary leaders'. As if. They were leading their 'followers' into nothing but a cold, grusome death at my blades and the rest of the Noxian Military. Sure for now they were just _talking. Screaming _in rage. _Pleaing_ for a change. Nothing new. But soon, they would threaten violence. Then there would be those random stones thrown through government leaders' windows. After that there would be miniscual, public outbreaks of violence; fist fights, shoving, and the all too certain knife fight. _Then _there would be a militia. A militia to fight our military. And lastly, to decide the fate of Noxus, a cruel, brutal war fought in cold steeland even colder blood. Although, that's what Noxus is all about right? Blood. The blood shed. Who _sheds_ the blood, and who _bleeds_ it. The concept might seem inhumane, and it is. But morals don't matter. If one deserves to live, then one shall live. If a person dies, then that means he was simply too weak to be worthy of this harsh yet rewarding hell called life.

I slightly drew my blades. It was almost time. I surveyed the crowd from high up on the wooden beam I was perched upon, like a hawk searching for it's next prey, preparing to rip it to shreds. My eyes darted back and forth until I spotted my target. Instantly, I locked my eyes onto him as I finished the task of drawing my blades out completly. I swung down from the rafters with cat like agility, almost-effortlessly managing to avoid detection.

I slunk through the shadows (escaping the crowd) as I stalked my mark, my blades eager to taste his blood. He was taking a not-so-secret-anymore short-cut to his destination, two guards trailing behind him. Average armor. Obviously hired men, not militia. Luckily for me though, the short-cut happened to be a dark, unused alleyway. It was almost too good to be true. Too easy. Perhaps a bit insulting now that I think of it.

My first problem was how to deal with his hired guns. The answer was rather simple actually; hardly worthy of being called a problem, I suppose.

They were heavily armored, but, they forgot one minor detail. There was one exposure at their necks. Fragile flesh, just begging to be penetrated by deadly steel. I caculated my movements, then lept from the shadows, blades ready to strike.

I landed behind the first one and embedded a dagger in his neck before the men even knew what was happening. Almost instantly afterwords I sprinted towards the other guard, sliding on the ground ( his helmet blocked his vision and inhibted his hearing so he was unable to notice his comrade's slaughter, so this was the best way to evade detection furthermore) on my back delivering two blades to his neck with expert aim. The clang of armor hitting the ground rung through the alleyway, the man just now realizing the sound turned around to investigate. But, he saw nothing. But nothing is bad. Because the man didn't see is guards he started running forward to the exit of the alley. Eh, he was rather large. I could outrun him with brick's tied to my ankles, most likely.

I cracked my knuckles before drawing two more blades and giving chase. I sprinted forward then shunpo'd to the nearest ledge and kicked off of it, spiraling toward a balcony railing. Grabbing on to the rail then swinging my self to the roof of one of the two buildings that enclosed the alleyway. Just as cut the corner I sprinted forward quickly to the edge of the roof, I jumped down. My blade pointed toward his un-armored chest. I landed on him, the force already plunging my blade into his chest, making sure to hit his heart with surgical prescision.

Blood oozed from the wound, his eyes lay open, crystal blue orbs once filled with life in his youth, just moments ago blood shot from his work (and rightful paranoia), now empty and lifeless. A sight I have seen so many times before.

Now all that was left was to send the message.

I bent down on one knee, brushing my crimson hair (caked with just as red blood from my victims) out of my eyes. I dipped my finger into the puddle of blood leaking from the man, then brought it the ground and traced the words "BLOOD FOR NOXUS" onto his forhead.

I stood up, smirking a devilish grin. Another job done correctly. Kudos to me. But most importantly...

"Blood for Noxus." I whispered to myself as I melded back into the shadows.


End file.
